Island Hearts (Jenny's Turn and Stray Lady) Read online

  Jake’s love life was as changeable as the films he worked on. Sometimes she suspected that he changed women every time he finished a major project. The brunette had been during the ecology series. The redhead must have been around election time, when Jake had been up to his ears in political broadcasts. And Monica—

  Monica had lasted longer than the others.

  Why on earth did she feel like crying?

  She parked underground and took the elevator up to her apartment, her arms loaded with books and the story board pad. The apartment was dark except for the numbers glowing on a digital clock in the living room. Monica was out with Jake. She might stay out all night. Of course they must be lovers. They’d be at his False Creek town house, her arms twisted around his broad shoulders, his eyes glowing as they looked down on her pale body. The blankets would be tumbled around them, evidence of their passion.

  Jenny shivered again. The thermostat had to be wrong. She turned it up.

  She had been at Jake’s townhouse once for a party. She could close her eyes and see it clearly. She’d stood at the window and looked out over the water, staring at the boats in the marina below. Behind her, Jake had been dancing with his current woman.

  Was he dancing with Monica tonight? Making love?

  Jenny moved restlessly, putting a disk in the stereo, pouring herself a Coke and carrying it into her bedroom where she had a workbench set up.

  She tried to keep working when she heard the door, the low sound of Jake’s voice, then Monica’s. She stared at the words she had written on the storyboard, but they made no sense at all. She’d lost her concentration. Their voices kept intruding on her work.

  She was hungry, but she’d have to walk past Jake and Monica on her way to the kitchen. Jake would be watching her as if he knew how it bothered her to see them together. She turned out her light and undressed in the glow from a street lamp. Silence from the living room. Was Monica kissing him back, her arms twisted around him, her fingers tangling in his black hair? Why didn’t they stay away, do their necking somewhere else?

  She slipped under the covers of her narrow bed. In the living room, Jake and Monica certainly weren’t making enough noise to keep her awake. Most of the time, they weren’t making any noise at all.

  She slept, restlessly at first, then deeply. She was lost in some troubled dream when Monica knocked on her bedroom door and called, “Wake up, sleepy head! You can’t sleep forever.”

  Then she was dashing, getting dressed and tending to her hair and teeth. She had time to take a quick gulp of coffee in the kitchen, to listen to Monica saying, “I’ll be away this weekend. Jake’s taking me over to Victoria for the weekend. Did you know he has an uncle living over there? Quite an old character, I guess.”

  “I might go away for the weekend, too,” lied Jenny as she headed out the door.

  She hadn’t noticed before, but on the way to work there was a big billboard with a picture of a hamburger on it – a big juicy hamburger with one bite out of it. Jenny could recite, in great and gory detail, the process that had produced that hamburger.

  She might never eat another hamburger.

  Chapter 2

  Jenny unloaded the big storyboard onto Jake’s desk, grabbing quickly to rescue a pile of papers that started to slide off towards the edge of his desk.

  “Eglinton?” he asked, looking up, the phone propped under his chin. She thought he looked strained, tired. She nodded silently and he said, “There’s a message for you on your desk.”

  He shifted the receiver, looking as if he were tempted to hang up. How long had he been waiting on hold?

  “Jennifer, I wanted to— Hello? Yes, Jake here. Look, is there any chance of pushing ahead the printing schedule for the museum pamphlets?”

  Jenny walked over to her desk, picked up the paper written in Charlotte’s round, childish handwriting. ‘Dinner at seven. Pick me up at the Holiday Inn. Love, George.’

  Then Charlotte was leaning over her shoulder, saying, “That message came in on voice mail before I got here this morning.” She looked at Jenny expectantly, hoping for more information about George than Jenny’s brief, “Thanks.”

  George was exactly the therapy she needed. Being around her cousin tended to bring out the rebel in Jenny. When they were children, she and George had always been in scrapes together – going out sailing in Dad’s boat without permission, getting caught in the tide rips off Cape Mudge, having a garage sale without asking, starting to sell all Aunt Georgina’s treasures from the corners of the attic.

  Jake was getting up from his desk, prowling restlessly. “We just might get the printers to do the job on time – assuming I can get the copy to them.” He leaned on the edge of her desk, resting on one lean, brown hand. She stared down at his fingers, bare except for a carved silver ring on the baby finger of his left hand.

  “You can lock yourself in here and work on it,” she told him, looking up, meeting his eyes with a smile. “I’ll tell Charlotte to give all your calls to me. Leave everything else for a few days.”

  He raked his hand through his hair, staring at her lips. She found her smile freezing as he demanded, “How does this George rate getting you to pick him up? You usually have your men coming for you – what’s happened to Wayne?”

  Jake’s love life was probably a darn sight more interesting than Jenny Winslow’s – everyone’s was – but she made herself keep smiling and said, “I’m beginning to believe you really do want to do a film on my love life.”

  He straightened abruptly, pushed his hand into his pocket. “You don’t give anything away, do you? You’re secretive, like an oyster.”

  She shrugged and switched the monitor on. “I like oysters.”

  “I bet you do – just your style. I don’t know any more about you now than I did the day you walked into my studio.”

  She met his probing eyes defiantly, but kept her voice cool. “Just what is it that you need to know, Jake?” But he didn’t rise to that bait.

  He brushed her hair back with his free hand, the glint in his eyes telling her that he knew how hard it was for her not to jerk away.

  “The men come and go,” he mused, “but none of them ever gets near you. All right, Jennifer, keep your secrets. Let’s get into the Eglinton thing.”

  She relaxed, her fingers dropping George’s note into the wastebasket. She saw Jake watch the note fall, but he made no comment. Jenny said, “Eglinton on his mountain climbing expedition? I think there’s a lot of potential.”

  And they were off, talking, bouncing ideas back and forth, tearing up the story board she’d done the night before – she’d known it would suffer that fate. It was only a focal point to get them started, to organize their thoughts.

  Maybe this was what kept her working for Jake. The moments when they shared the creation of an idea, when he forgot to watch her and she could relax with the joy of just working with him until she found herself suggesting eagerly, “Couldn’t I go on location? I’d like a chance to get back into some filming. Since Hans came, I’ve been pretty much stuck in the studio.”

  “Can’t, Jennifer.” His voice was strangely devoid of emotion. “I need you here. There’s too much to do, pulling it all together. On the twentieth—”

  Dully, she said, “I’ll be gone, Jake. I’ll be on holidays.”

  “I meant to talk to you about that – later. Later today, we’ll sit down and go over a few things.”

  But they didn’t. Jake left for city hall to work on an educational video on municipal government. He never did get back to the office. Jenny stayed, working until her watch chimed six o’clock. Too much work. She would never finish it all in the next week before her holidays – not unless she abandoned the Madison series.

  She shook herself impatiently and went for her coat. It was quitting time. Certainly no time to be wondering if she should put off her holidays once again.

  Tonight she’d be seeing George for the first time in years. Her cousin had virtually di
sappeared from sight. She’d sent post cards from France, quick notes from Greece. Jenny had read loneliness between the quickly scrawled words, known her cousin was still grieving for Scott.

  Yet tonight George seemed as she always had; lively and vivacious, her short blond hair waving closely around her heart-shaped face, her grin mischievous.

  “George, you look gorgeous! You’ve had your hair streaked – it looks terrific!”

  “That’s gray hair you see.” George patted the seat beside her. “Sit down. I’ll be thirty soon, getting to be an old lady. Tell me about yourself, Jenny. Men?”

  She sat across from George. “No one special.” She smiled suddenly, and added, “Although you’ll never convince Jake of that. He thinks I’m the scarlet lady.”

  George studied her, frowning.“Speaking of Jake – how’s work? Still loving it?”

  “I’m not looking for another job,” Jenny evaded.

  George’s blue eyes widened. “Do I detect a note of discontent?”

  Jenny laughed. “You would notice, wouldn’t you? Maybe I’m restless— I am restless.”

  “What about your chieftain?”

  “Jake’s not mine. I wouldn’t want him to be!”

  Her words echoed around the table. A woman seated behind George twisted curiously to look at them.

  George was staring at her, too. Jenny said hurriedly, “He’s not a chieftain. It was his grandfather who was a Haida chief.”

  George pushed back the curls that fell over her forehead. The hair promptly bounced back as her hand left it. “You’re getting into a rut, Jenny. It shows in your voice. You should make a play for your Jake, or get out.”

  Jenny pushed her long hair back nervously, not meeting her cousin’s eyes. George, as usual, was able to see right through her. Jake had always affected Jenny more than he should, but lately she’d become almost obsessed – Lord! These days he couldn’t even come through the door without her heart going wild!

  She picked up the menu again.“What’s good here? What are you having?”

  “Come to Alaska with me. I’m going sailing.”

  Hardly listening, Jenny repeated, “Sailing? In Alaska?”

  “Have the baked salmon,” said George impatiently, taking Jenny’s menu and catching the waitress’s eye.

  “Sailing?” Jenny said again, finally paying attention. “Whose boat?”

  George picked up a spoon, stirred her coffee for the second time. Her voice was slightly unsteady. “Scott and I were buying a boat just before he— before he had his heart attack. The boat was in Alaska. I’m going to take it sailing now – baked salmon,” she told the waitress.

  Jenny echoed her order, frowning, remembering how impulsive her cousin could be. This sounded like a madcap scheme from their childhood.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked slowly.

  “Positive,” George said firmly. “Scott and I were going to sail her south, but Scott— he— we— I didn’t know what to do, so I had the yard haul the boat out again, store it on dry land. Then I tried to forget about it.”

  A tall man in a business suit walked past, staring at George as if he might know her. George ignored him.

  Jenny asked, “You didn’t sell the boat?”

  “No.” George shrugged, and finally met Jenny’s eyes. “And now I want to make the trip.”

  “From Alaska? Alone?” The tall man was seated across from them now, still trying to catch George’s eye. “That man seems to know you – no, not there. The one in the brown suit.”

  George looked, then quickly looked away. “He has the room next to mine. I keep running into him, and he keeps trying to start a conversation. I’ll sail alone if I have to, but why don’t you come with me?” George laughed, the sparkle returning to her eyes as she said, “Keep me out of trouble, like old times.”

  “You’ve got to be joking! I never kept you out of trouble – you got me into trouble is more like it!” She added, regretfully, “I can’t, George.”

  “Are you sure?” George wasn’t one to take no for an answer. “Think about it. You’ve been working there for how long?”

  “Five years.” Was it really that long since she had walked into Jake’s chaotic one-man studio? She’d been job searching, working her way through the yellow pages of the telephone book, working that day on a hunch that anyone who did documentary films might need someone to write scripts. She’d had a brand new creative writing degree from the University of Victoria, and she’d already worked her way through all the newspapers and radio stations in her search for a job.

  She’d climbed three flights of stairs to find Jake’s office. She’d gone in through the door as someone else went out, found herself standing in the midst of chaos – papers, sketches, boxes of supplies. And Jake.

  “I’m busy,” he’d informed her rudely, dark eyes meeting hers impatiently, a sketching charcoal in his hand. “What do you want?”

  “A job,” she’d told him, knowing this was the place. She’d wanted to come closer, see what he was working on. She’d wanted to share the excitement that seemed to emanate from him.

  He’d shaken his head, turned back to his easel, saying, “Try the accountants downstairs. They might need someone.”

  “Not nearly as badly as you do,” she’d retorted, pointedly looking around at the chaos of his studio.

  George’s voice intruded on her memories. “Are you going to spend the rest of your life working for the man? You could freelance. Go traveling, see something of the world and take pictures with that video camera of yours.” George spread her hands, indicating a world of possibilities.

  Weakening, Jenny said slowly, “I’ve got a month’s vacation coming. How long will it take you to come down from Alaska? ”

  “I’ve no particular schedule.” George was mentally altering her plans to suit Jenny. “We could be down on Vancouver Island within a month.”

  Jenny frowned, tracing a line on her napkin. “I’m supposed to start my vacation next week. I was thinking of going to visit Mom and Dad.”

  “Is Aunt Sally expecting you?”

  “Well— no. I haven’t decided yet.” Jenny shifted her chair to avoid meeting the eye of the man in the brown suit. George had made a conquest there, although she didn’t seem to care. “I did book my ticket, but I keep expecting Jake to tell me I can’t go.” Her holidays had already been put off several times because of Jake’s demands.

  “Cancel the ticket. Tell the chieftain you’ll quit if he won’t let you go.” George waved a hand in a decisive motion. “Come for a month, then if you decide to stay, we can sail south to the Caribbean and see Aunt Sally and Uncle Herb.”

  What a holiday! That was what she needed. A new experience, something that didn’t have Jake anywhere around.

  Later, when she arrived home, she saw Jake’s car in her parking lot. That prepared her for finding him curled up on the living room sofa with Monica.

  Monica’s time must be almost up, thought Jenny wryly, because Jake pushed away from her and got to his feet as Jenny slipped her coat off.

  “Didn’t he bring you home?” he asked, his hands pushed deep into his pockets. “You haven’t got him very well trained yet.”

  “I’ll work on it.” Jenny turned away from Jake. “Hi, Monica.”

  “The new boyfriend?” speculated Jake from behind her. “Or is he an old one come back?”

  “Who?” Monica asked from the sofa. She looked indecently contented, thoroughly kissed.

  Jake said, “I want to talk to you, Jennifer.”

  “About George?”

  He said, “No. About your holidays.”

  Jenny had known it was coming. She turned away, fitting her coat carefully onto the hanger as he said, “You’ll have to wait until we get the Eglinton video underway. I can’t spare you until then.”

  “Oh?” She smoothed the coat, turned and walked into the small kitchenette.

  Hans had taken ten days off only a month ago,
but not Jenny. She’d been waiting almost two years for more than a few days, and now she’d have to wait again. What would he do if she just walked out? He could fire her – serve him right if he did. Then he’d find out just how much work she did, just how badly he needed her.

  “Jennifer?” his voice followed her, faintly worried. Good! Let him worry, he deserved it. She let the door swing, listening to it click shut, closing him outside.

  Mercifully, he didn’t follow her.

  Monica came a moment later. “Are you making coffee, Jenny? Jake wants coffee.”

  “Does he, now?” Monica stared at her sarcastic tone and Jenny said quietly, “I’m boiling water for tea. There’s only just enough for me.”

  She’d like to pour the whole kettleful over his head.

  Monica started filling the coffee maker with water. “What were you and Jake talking about when you came in?”

  “Work.”

  Monica smiled a dreamy smile and said softly, “I’m going to marry him, Jenny.”

  Jenny’s heart slammed against her ribs. She had to clear her throat, but her voice was still hoarse. “Jake asked you to marry him?”

  “Not yet, but he will.” Monica touched her own lips, almost whispering, “He’s on the verge of it. He’s been hinting, and I’m going to say yes when he does. I love him, Jenny. There’s nobody else like him.” Monica gave her a quick hug, then slipped away to her lover.

  No! Jake didn’t marry his women. He kept them at a distance, played with them, then let them go.

  Jenny watched the steam rising from the kettle, an angry pain washing over her as she thought of Jake and Monica married. Every day, Jake would leave the studio, go home to Monica. Jenny would watch him go, then she would drive home alone.

  She had a terrifying, horrible vision of herself going out walking in the night, going all the way to False Creek, looking up into Jake’s window… knowing from the darkened windows that they were lying together, their skin touching from shoulders to thighs.

  Surely she wouldn’t be such a fool as to do that, wandering around the city like a lovesick fool! Even when Lance abandoned her, she hadn’t been that insane with love!